“This is my fault.”
“I won’t let you claim all the blame here, Bella. Or all the glory either. I know how to redeem myself.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. The sudden, frenzied light in his eyes frightened me.
He glanced up at the sun and then smiled at me. “There’s a pretty serious fight brewing down there. I don’t think it will be that difficult to take myself out of the picture.”
His words sank into my brain, slowly, one by one, and I couldn’t breathe. Despite all my intentions to cut Jacob out of my life completely, I didn’t realize until that precise second exactly how deep the knife would have to go to do it.
“Oh, no, Jake! No, no no no,” I choked out in horror. “No, Jake, no. Please, no.” My knees began to tremble.
“What’s the difference, Bella? This will only make it more convenient for everyone. You won’t even have to move.”
“No!” My voice got louder. “No, Jacob! I won’t let you!”
“How will you stop me?” he taunted lightly, smiling to take the sting out of his tone.
“Jacob, I’m begging you. Stay with me.” I would have fallen to my knees, if I could have moved at all.
“For fifteen minutes while I miss a good brawl? So that you can run away from me as soon as you think I’m safe again? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I won’t run away. I’ve changed my mind. We’ll work something out, Jacob. There’s always a compromise. Don’t go!”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. You know what a terrible liar I am. Look in my eyes. I’ll stay if you do.”
His face hardened. “And I can be your best man at the wedding?”
It was a moment before I could speak, and still the only answer I could give him was, “Please.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, his face going calm again, but for the turbulent light in his eyes.
“I love you, Bella,” he murmured.
“I love you, Jacob,” I whispered brokenly.
He smiled. “I know that better than you do.”
He turned to walk away.
“Anything,” I called after him in a strangled voice. “Anything you want, Jacob. Just don’t do this!”
He paused, turning slowly.
“I don’t really think you mean that.”
“Stay,” I begged.
He shook his head. “No, I’m going.” He paused, as if deciding something. “But I could leave it to fate.”
“What do you mean?” I choked out.
“I don’t have to do anything deliberate — I could just do my best for my pack and let what happens happen.” He shrugged. “If you could convince me you really did want me to come back — more than you wanted to do the selfless thing.”
“How?” I asked.
“You could ask me,” he suggested.
“Come back,” I whispered. How could he doubt that I meant it?
He shook his head, smiling again. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
It took me a second to grasp what he was saying, and all the while he was looking at me with this superior expression — so sure of my reaction. As soon as the realization hit, though, I blurted out the words without stopping to count the cost.
“Will you kiss me, Jacob?”
His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. “You’re bluffing.”
“Kiss me, Jacob. Kiss me, and then come back.”
He hesitated in the shadow, warring with himself. He half-turned again to the west, his torso twisting away from me while his feet stayed planted where they were. Still looking away, he took one uncertain step in my direction, and then another. He swung his face around to look at me, his eyes doubtful.
I stared back. I had no idea what expression was on my face.
Jacob rocked back on his heels, and then lurched forward, closing the distance between us in three long strides.
I knew he would take advantage of the situation. I expected it. I held very still — my eyes closed, my fingers curled into fists at my sides — as his hands caught my face and his lips found mine with an eagerness that was not far from violence.
I could feel his anger as his mouth discovered my passive resistance. One hand moved to the nape of my neck, twisting into a fist around the roots of my hair. The other hand grabbed roughly at my shoulder, shaking me, then dragging me to him. His hand continued down my arm, finding my wrist and pulling my arm up around his neck. I left it there, my hand still tightly balled up, unsure how far I could go in my desperation to keep him alive. All the while his lips, disconcertingly soft and warm, tried to force a response out of mine.
As soon as he was sure I wouldn’t drop my arm, he freed my wrist, his hand feeling its way down to my waist. His burning hand found the skin at the small of my back, and he yanked me forward, bowing my body against his.
His lips gave up on mine for a moment, but I knew he was nowhere close to finished. His mouth followed the line of my jaw, and then explored the length of my neck. He freed my hair, reaching for my other arm to draw it around his neck like the first.
Then both of his arms were constricted around my waist, and his lips found my ear.
“You can do better than this, Bella,” he whispered huskily. “You’re overthinking it.”
I shivered as I felt his teeth graze my earlobe.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “For once, just let yourself feel what you feel.”
I shook my head mechanically until one of his hands wound back into my hair and stopped me.
His voice turned acidic. “Are you sure you want me to come back? Or did you really want me to die?”
Anger rocked through me like the whiplash after a heavy punch. That was too much — he wasn’t fighting fair.
My arms were already around his neck, so I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair — ignoring the stabbing pain in my right hand — and fought back, struggling to pull my face away from his.
And Jacob misunderstood.
He was too strong to recognize that my hands, trying to yank his hair out by the roots, meant to cause him pain. Instead of anger, he imagined passion. He thought I was finally responding to him.
With a wild gasp, he brought his mouth back to mine, his fingers clutching frantically against the skin at my waist.
The jolt of anger unbalanced my tenuous hold on self-control; his unexpected, ecstatic response overthrew it entirely. If there had been only triumph, I might have been able to resist him. But the utter defenselessness of his sudden joy cracked my determination, disabled it. My brain disconnected from my body, and I was kissing him back. Against all reason, my lips were moving with his in strange, confusing ways they’d never moved before — because I didn’t have to be careful with Jacob, and he certainly wasn’t being careful with me.
My fingers tightened in his hair, but I was pulling him closer now.
He was everywhere. The piercing sunlight turned my eyelids red, and the color fit, matched the heat. The heat was everywhere. I couldn’t see or hear or feel anything that wasn’t Jacob.
The tiny piece of my brain that retained sanity screamed questions at me.
Why wasn’t I stopping this? Worse than that, why couldn’t I find in myself even the desire to want to stop? What did it mean that I didn’t want him to stop? That my hands clung to his shoulders, and liked that they were wide and strong? That his hands pulled me too tight against his body, and yet it was not tight enough for me?
The questions were stupid, because I knew the answer: I’d been lying to myself.
Jacob was right. He’d been right all along. He was more than just my friend. That’s why it was so impossible to tell him goodbye — because I was in love with him. Too. I loved him, much more than I should, and yet, still nowhere near enough. I was in love with him, but it was not enough to change anything; it was only enough to hurt us both more. To hurt him worse than I ever had.
I didn’t care about more than t
hat — than his pain. I more than deserved whatever pain this caused me. I hoped it was bad. I hoped I would really suffer.
In this moment, it felt as though we were the same person. His pain had always been and would always be my pain — now his joy was my joy. I felt joy, too, and yet his happiness was somehow also pain. Almost tangible — it burned against my skin like acid, a slow torture.
For one brief, never-ending second, an entirely different path expanded behind the lids of my tear-wet eyes. As if I were looking through the filter of Jacob’s thoughts, I could see exactly what I was going to give up, exactly what this new self-knowledge would not save me from losing. I could see Charlie and Renée mixed into a strange collage with Billy and Sam and La Push. I could see years passing, and meaning something as they passed, changing me. I could see the enormous red-brown wolf that I loved, always standing as protector if I needed him. For the tiniest fragment of that second, I saw the bobbing heads of two small, black-haired children, running away from me into the familiar forest. When they disappeared, they took the rest of the vision with them.
And then, quite distinctly, I felt the splintering along the fissure line in my heart as the smaller part wrenched itself away from the whole.
Jacob’s lips were still before mine were. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me with wonder and elation.
“I have to leave,” he whispered.
“No.”
He smiled, pleased by my response. “I won’t be long,” he promised. “But one thing first . . .”
He bent to kiss me again, and there was no reason to resist. What would be the point?
This time was different. His hands were soft on my face and his warm lips were gentle, unexpectedly hesitant. It was brief, and very, very sweet.
His arms curled around me, and he hugged me securely while he whispered in my ear.
“That should have been our first kiss. Better late than never.”
Against his chest, where he couldn’t see, the tears welled up and spilled over.
24. SNAP DECISION
I LAY FACEDOWN ACROSS THE SLEEPING BAG, WAITING for justice to find me. Maybe an avalanche would bury me here. I wished it would. I never wanted to have to see my face in the mirror again.
There was no sound to warn me. Out of nowhere, Edward’s cold hand stroked against my knotted hair. I shuddered guiltily at his touch.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, his voice anxious.
“No. I want to die.”
“That will never happen. I won’t allow it.”
I groaned and then whispered, “You might change your mind about that.”
“Where’s Jacob?”
“He went to fight,” I mumbled into the floor.
Jacob had left the little camp joyfully — with a cheerful “I’ll be right back” — running full tilt for the clearing, already quivering as he prepared to shift to his other self. By now the whole pack knew everything. Seth Clearwater, pacing outside the tent, was an intimate witness to my disgrace.
Edward was silent for a long moment. “Oh,” he finally said.
The tone of his voice worried me that my avalanche wasn’t coming fast enough. I peeked up at him and, sure enough, his eyes were unfocused as he listened to something I’d rather die than have him hear. I dropped my face back to the floor.
It stunned me when Edward chuckled reluctantly.
“And I thought I fought dirty,” he said with grudging admiration. “He makes me look like the patron saint of ethics.” His hand brushed against the part of my cheek that was exposed. “I’m not mad at you, love. Jacob’s more cunning than I gave him credit for. I do wish you hadn’t asked him, though.”
“Edward,” I whispered to the rough nylon. “I . . . I . . . I’m —”
“Shh,” he hushed me, his fingers soothing against my cheek. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that he would have kissed you anyway — even if you hadn’t fallen for it — and now I don’t have an excuse to break his face. I would have really enjoyed that, too.”
“Fallen for it?” I mumbled almost incomprehensibly.
“Bella, did you really believe he was that noble? That he would go out in a flame of glory just to clear the way for me?”
I raised my head slowly to meet his patient gaze. His expression was soft; his eyes were full of understanding rather than the revulsion I deserved to see.
“Yes, I did believe that,” I muttered, and then looked away. But I didn’t feel any anger at Jacob for tricking me. There wasn’t enough room in my body to contain anything besides the hatred I felt toward myself.
Edward laughed softly again. “You’re such a bad liar, you’ll believe anyone who has the least bit of skill.”
“Why aren’t you angry with me?” I whispered. “Why don’t you hate me? Or haven’t you heard the whole story yet?”
“I think I got a fairly comprehensive look,” he said in a light, easy voice. “Jacob makes vivid mental pictures. I feel almost as bad for his pack as I do for myself. Poor Seth was getting nauseated. But Sam is making Jacob focus now.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head in agony. The sharp nylon fibers of the tent floor scraped against my skin.
“You’re only human,” he whispered, stroking my hair again.
“That’s the most miserable defense I’ve ever heard.”
“But you are human, Bella. And, as much as I might wish otherwise, so is he. . . . There are holes in your life that I can’t fill. I understand that.”
“But that’s not true. That’s what makes me so horrible. There are no holes.”
“You love him,” he murmured gently.
Every cell in my body ached to deny it.
“I love you more,” I said. It was the best I could do.
“Yes, I know that, too. But . . . when I left you, Bella, I left you bleeding. Jacob was the one to stitch you back up again. That was bound to leave its mark — on both of you. I’m not sure those kinds of stitches dissolve on their own. I can’t blame either of you for something I made necessary. I may gain forgiveness, but that doesn’t let me escape the consequences.”
“I should have known you’d find some way to blame yourself. Please stop. I can’t stand it.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I want you to call me every bad name you can think of, in every language you know. I want you to tell me that you’re disgusted with me and that you’re going to leave so that I can beg and grovel on my knees for you to stay.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I can’t do that.”
“At least stop trying to make me feel better. Let me suffer. I deserve it.”
“No,” he murmured.
I nodded slowly. “You’re right. Keep on being too understanding. That’s probably worse.”
He was silent for a moment, and I sensed a charge in the atmosphere, a new urgency.
“It’s getting close,” I stated.
“Yes, a few more minutes now. Just enough time to say one more thing. . . .”
I waited. When he finally spoke again, he was whispering. “I can be noble, Bella. I’m not going to make you choose between us. Just be happy, and you can have whatever part of me you want, or none at all, if that’s better. Don’t let any debt you feel you owe me influence your decision.”
I pushed off the floor, shoving myself up onto my knees.
“Dammit, stop that!” I shouted at him.
His eyes widened in surprise. “No — you don’t understand. I’m not just trying to make you feel better, Bella, I really mean it.”
“I know you do,” I groaned. “What happened to fighting back? Don’t start with the noble self-sacrifice now! Fight!”
“How?” he asked, and his eyes were ancient with their sadness.
I scrambled into his lap, throwing my arms around him.
“I don’t care that it’s cold here. I don’t care that I stink like a dog right now. Make me forget how awful I am. Make me forget him. Make me forg
et my own name. Fight back!”
I didn’t wait for him to decide — or to have the chance to tell me he wasn’t interested in a cruel, faithless monster like me. I pulled myself against him and crushed my mouth to his snow-cold lips.
“Careful, love,” he murmured under my urgent kiss.
“No,” I growled.
He gently pushed my face a few inches back. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not trying to prove something. You said I could have any part of you I wanted. I want this part. I want every part.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and strained to reach his lips. He bent his head to kiss me back, but his cool mouth was hesitant as my impatience grew more pronounced. My body was making my intentions clear, giving me away. Inevitably, his hands moved to restrain me.
“Perhaps this isn’t the best moment for that,” he suggested, too calm for my liking.
“Why not?” I grumbled. There was no point in fighting if he was going to be rational; I dropped my arms.
“Firstly, because it is cold.” He reached out to pull the sleeping bag off the floor; he wrapped it around me like a blanket.
“Wrong,” I said. “First, because you are bizarrely moral for a vampire.”
He chuckled. “All right, I’ll give you that. The cold is second. And thirdly . . . well, you do actually stink, love.”
He wrinkled his nose.
I sighed.
“Fourthly,” he murmured, dropping his face so that he was whispering in my ear. “We will try, Bella. I’ll make good on my promise. But I’d much rather it wasn’t in reaction to Jacob Black.”
I cringed, and buried my face against his shoulder.
“And fifthly . . .”
“This is a very long list,” I muttered.
He laughed. “Yes, but did you want to listen to the fight or not?”
As he spoke, Seth howled stridently outside the tent.
My body stiffened to the sound. I didn’t realize my left hand was clenched into a fist, nails biting into my bandaged palm, until Edward took it and gently smoothed my fingers out.
“It’s going to be fine, Bella,” he promised. “We’ve got skill, training, and surprise on our side. It will be over very soon. If I didn’t truly believe that, I would be down there now — and you’d be here, chained to a tree or something along those lines.”
The Twilight Saga Collection Page 122